Never Going Back Again
by WeasleyWannabee
Summary: AU. It's been a year since Lily's seen James Potter, but what will happen when he saunters back into her life with that same arrogant smirk and his annoying way of knowing just how to push her to the edge? L/J, Lily's POV
1. Potter Again

**A/N: Okay, let me just set this one up a little. This idea popped into my head one night, and ... well, here we are! Anyway, this story is semi-AU-ish, in that Lily is working at the Leaky Cauldron after graduating Hogwarts, and James is in the Order (well, that's still canon). Also, they never dated in school, and I have in my head for this story that they weren't Head Boy/Girl either. So, feel free to back out now if AU isn't your thing, I completely understand.**

**But for those of you sticking around, another disclaimer: This is the first time I'm doing a story where I actually update when the chapters are done. Okay, that sounds completely confusing, let me clarify. I usually write the first few chapters before posting anything, so I always have a little buffer in case I get really stuck. So yes, that means that if you've read any of my other chapter stories, I always had one or two chapters in the wings when I was posting. *insert evil laugh here* But it just made me feel less pressured, I guess. So, what I'm trying to say is, with this story I have no idea how long updates are going to be. I can say that chapter 2 might be a while, both because I have almost no idea where this story is going except for a few random scenes, and because I'm leaving in a week for LONDON to see the HP premiere! And visit my friend, but that's secondary ;) If it helps, just pretend this is a one-shot, and that'll get you through to the next update! Haha, right.**

**Well, I'll stop rambling.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Potter Again<strong>

"Lily, hon, someone for you at table five!" Luanne called from the bar, where she was balancing three mugs with her wand as she filled them with butterbeer.

"On it, thanks Luanne," I answered, sighing inwardly. I hated the Friday night shift at the Leaky Cauldron. Friday night apparently gave everyone some unreasonable need to drown themselves in alcohol, and the Cauldron seemed to be the place to do it. Though why anyone would subject themselves to the dingy bar on a regular basis was beyond me. They were wizards, for Merlin's sake, all of London was open to them in the blink of an eye.

Whatever the case, Friday usually found me trying to juggle twelve tables of rowdy wizards, our usual old drunks at the bar who were almost more interested in trying to grab my arse than the whiskey in their glasses, and the inevitable drunken fight or five that would always break out by the end of the night.

Three hours into my shift, my patience already hanging by a thread, it was no wonder I nearly slit my wrists with the broken bottle that had just fallen off the bar behind me when I saw who occupied table five.

Whirling around, I ducked behind the bar and approached Luanne, now filling Mr. Cabel's glass for the fifth time that night. "Luanne," I hissed, causing the older woman to jump.

"Merlin, Lily, you know I hate when you do that," she scolded me.

"Sorry. Look, er, could you maybe take table five? I could cover up here for a minute if y—"

"What?" Luanne interrupted, confused. Craning to see the table in question, she added, "What's wrong with—_oh_." She turned to smile slyly at me. "Got ourselves a handsome one, I see."

I refrained from rolling my eyes with extreme difficulty. "No, that's not exactly—"

"Now, as tempting as he looks, I'm sure he'd be much more interested in you than an old woman like me."

_You have no idea_. "Well, see, that's exactly what I'm worried ab—"

"Lily Evans, you get your cute little behind over there! Right now! I've had enough of your excuses when it comes to having a man in your life."

"And what exactly makes you think _he's _anyone I'd like to get in my knickers?" I shot back, a little louder than I intended, causing a few wolf whistles and suggestive shouts from down the bar.

"You've got to be careful talking about your knickers around this crowd; what have I always told you?" Luanne admonished with a teasing wink.

This time I did roll my eyes. "Luanne—" I began in one last desperate attempt.

"Go! Or I will not hesitate to fire you on the spot!"

"You're insane, Lu," I muttered, turned resignedly away at last.

Taking a steeling breath, I pulled a quill and pad of paper from my apron and marched determinedly over to the table in the far corner. The dark haired, bespectacled young man sitting there sported a crooked half smile as he watched a crowd of middle-aged wizards singing loudly a few tables over, and didn't look over as I approached. _Maybe he won't recognize me_, I thought with foolish hope as I reached him.

"What can I get you?" I asked, with a valiant attempt at courtesy.

The wizard's eyes snapped onto mine and a grin immediately broke over his face. I groaned inwardly. "Lily Evans," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands behind his head. "Time has sure been kind to you, love."

_And it hasn't changed you one bit_. "It's only been a year since I've seen you, Potter."

"Been counting the days, have you?"

"No—it's the anniversary of our graduation today."

Looking slightly surprised, Potter frowned. "So it is," he said slowly. Grinning again, he added, "So, how've you been, Evans?"

"I'm not doing this with you, Potter," I said shortly.

"Doing what?"

"This!" I repeated, gesturing wildly between us. "Honestly, I'd rather be up at the bar, having my knockers ogled by one of those creepy old men than here talking to you!" Potter raised his eyebrows, and I flushed slightly. "Look, this is how it's going to work: You'll tell me what you want to drink or eat, I'll get it for you, you'll pay, and then you'll leave. Okay?"

The grin finally slid off Potter's face, and he let out a short sigh. "Fine. Er . . . I'll just have a firewhiskey, thanks." He handed over the menu, and I snatched it from him with perhaps a bit too much force before stalking away.

As I filled Potter's drink order at the bar, Luanne came sidling up to me. "So . . ." she started suggestively.

I sighed. "I went to school with him," I stated bluntly. "And we—well, let's just say we have a history. And _not _in a good way," I added quickly as Luanne started to grin again.

"Oh," she said, now looking concerned. "Oh, honey, why didn't you say so? I would have taken over for you."

I glared at her. "Well, I was _trying _to, but you were just concerned with getting me a decent shag, so—"

"Oh, now, that just makes me sound terrible!" Luanne protested, laughing.

"You _are _terrible, Lu," I said with a wry smile.

"Really, though, honey, if you want me to take care of it—"

"No, no, it's fine—I was bound to run into him one of these days."

Before I could start back to Potter's table with his firewhiskey, Luanne grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, near the door to the kitchens. "He didn't . . . hurt you, or anything, did he?" she asked seriously. "Because I am not going to let you—"

"No, Merlin!" I interrupted in frustration. "D'you think I would have gone over there in the first place if that were the case? No, we never—" I stopped. "It wasn't like that between us."

Luanne continued to look at me sternly for several more seconds. Nodding slowly, she said, "All right, love—just let me know if you change your mind, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," I said, smiling exasperatedly at her.

I made my winding way through the crowded bar back to Potter's table. "Here you go," I said, setting the glass of firewhiskey before him.

He brought it to his lips with a smile and nod of thanks.

"Anything else I can get you?" I asked as he took a long drink. Realizing exactly where Potter could take that statement, I amended hastily, "Anything _food_-related, that is."

Potter grinned briefly. "No, this should do me."

"Okay," I said. I waited for him to say something else, but when he didn't, I repeated, "Okay! Er, enjoy."

_Enjoy?_ I repeated to myself in disgust as I walked away. _No wonder Potter always teased me when we were at school—I somehow manage to make a complete idiot of myself whenever I'm around him_.

The rest of the night flew by as Friday nights always did, though thankfully without the need to resort to magic to resolve the brief squabbles that broke out as the crowd grew generally more inebriated. It wasn't until most of our regulars had started to stumble out that I suddenly realized I hadn't checked on Potter since I'd brought him his drink. Looking over to his table, I saw that it was empty.

_The prick better have paid_, I thought angrily as I hurried over. At first, I thought he hadn't, but then I spotted a stack of sickles balanced neatly under his glass. Dropping them into my apron pocket, I noticed the scribbled note left on his napkin: _Good to see you again, Evans_.

To my horror, a pang of guilt twisted my stomach. I _could _have been nicer to him, I suppose . . . but really, why bother? He wouldn't treat me any differently either way. And yet, he had seemed sort of put out when I'd snapped at him earlier . . . Shaking my head, I crumpled the napkin in my hand and moved to bring the glass back to the bar.

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><p>Three consecutive days without any sign of Potter, and I started to breathe easy again. It was probably just a random coincidence; after all, like I'd told Luanne, it was inevitable that we would see each other at least once after school ended.<p>

But it must have been long enough since our last interaction, because I'd forgotten the most fundamental rule about Potter: never assume anything.

It was just after the dinner rush began the following Friday that Luanne came up to me, eyebrows raised and a look in her eye that told me I'd regret whatever she had to tell me.

"Oh, Merlin, what is it?" I asked apprehensively. "Is Sam Gathje doing vodka shots again?"

"No, no . . ." Luanne paused. "It's . . . he's back."

"Who?"

Luanne just looked at me, and I let out a groan.

"Of bloody course he is."

Without waiting for her to add anything else, I marched over to the bar, stopping squarely in front of the stool where Potter was seated.

"Evans—fancy seeing you here," he said, smirking.

"Yes, it's mind-blowing," I replied dryly. "So, firewhiskey?"

"Actually, I think I'll stick with butterbeer tonight."

"Feeling a bit weak in the stomach, are we?" I asked tauntingly as I pulled a mug from beneath the bar.

"You do seem to have that effect on me."

I halted in pouring his butterbeer, pointing the tap threateningly at him. "Watch it, Potter, or you may just find your drink thrown in your face instead."

"Mmm, and that's why I came back on a Friday, which seems to be the busiest of the week—our conversations too often come to hexes, and I figured you wouldn't have time to hex me tonight." He grinned.

"Oh Potter, don't sell yourself short," I said sweetly, "I'll always find the time to hex you."

Unfazed, Potter's grin didn't fade. "Some things never change, do they, Evans?" His tone was teasing enough, but there was a challenge in his eyes that unnerved me.

On the pretext of ensuring I didn't overfill his glass, I broke eye contact to look down at his drink. "I guess they don't," I answered finally, pushing the mug towards him.

James took it, and before he could say anything else, I spoke up again.

"Well, as you rightly pointed out, this is our busiest night, so I can't really stay and chat."

"I thought you didn't want to, anyway?" James said, arching a brow.

"I don't," I answered swiftly. "But, you know, just in case you were . . . wondering," I added lamely.

Potter chuckled. "Don't worry, Evans—after last time, I didn't really get my hopes up."

"Right. Well, enjoy the butterbeer."

"You're really keen on me enjoying these drinks, eh?" James asked teasingly.

"And that's my cue," I said with a roll of my eyes, grabbing a couple of empties from the wizard beside James and moving away.

Once again, Potter was gone by the time I had a spare moment to check on him. And once again, he'd left me the payment for his drink along with a scribbled note in his messy, nearly illegible scrawl: _Until next Friday, Evans_.

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><p>True to his word, James showed up the following Friday. And the one after that. And the one after that. In fact, we fell into a sort of routine. He'd arrive, Luanne would wave me over, I'd serve Potter a drink and we'd exchange a few words—more on the acerbic end than the amiable—before I left to serve the other customers.<p>

Five Fridays after the first, I came on my shift to find James there early, chatting and laughing with Luanne over at the bar. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight—Merlin only knew what my boss was plotting.

Hurrying over, I stopped beside Lu, hands planted firmly on my hips.

"Oh, hello, Evans," James said breezily, as though it were a pleasant surprise to find me there.

"Potter," I said, glancing briefly at him before turning accusing eyes back to Luanne.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Lily?" she asked, but her eyes were dancing mischievously.

"Lu, I have known you too long not to know when you're up to something. What have you been telling him?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I'm sure you don't," I said sarcastically.

"See, paranoid, isn't she?" Luanne added to Potter, who was grinning. "I'm telling you, some good sex would straighten her right out."

I let out a strangled sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream. "Lu! Merlin, Lu! I can't _believe_ . . ." I turned to Potter, unable to quite look him in the eye. "Do _not _listen to her, she is insane," I said, blushing furiously now.

"Lighten up, honey," is all Lu said, patting my cheek and moving down the bar to serve a pair of young witches who'd just entered.

"_Merlin_," I muttered under my breath, glaring after her. "And don't you _dare _say anything, Potter," I warned him, poking him squarely in the chest.

He raised his eyebrows and held his hands up defensively. "Hey, now, I haven't said a word, have I?"

"No," I allowed begrudgingly. "I'm a bit impressed, actually."

He took a sip of the firewhiskey Lu had poured him. "Although, it's not necessarily bad advice," he said musingly. "On the whole."

I froze. Potter smirked.

"I _knew _you couldn't resist commenting on that," I said finally, eyes narrowed.

"Well, come on Lily—it's just sex. Everyone's doing it."

"Oh, really, are they, Potter?"

"Mmhmm."

"And have you ever known me to be a 'go with the flow' type of person?"

James laughed appreciatively. "Ah, touché, my dear, touché."

"So, I've been meaning to ask—"

"Merlin, Evans, at least take a bloke to dinner first."

I leaned over the bar to punch him on the arm. "Let me finish—I've been meaning to ask: where are your band of loyal followers? Haven't seen you come in with any of them."

Raising an eyebrow, James asked, "Oh, so I'm the leader, am I?"

"You or Black, yes. And since he, impossible as I find it, is even more out of control than you are, but will listen to you and on the very rare occasion Remus . . . yes, I'd say you're the leader. I would say don't let it go to your head, but the point is rather moot by now."

"Shame, isn't it?"

"Mmm."

James was quiet for a moment, as though deciding what he could or wanted to tell me. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes briefly, and replaced the round spectacles on his nose. "Fridays are my day off, but Remus, Sirius, and Peter are all on duty," he said finally. "For the Order," he clarified. "Er, you know what the Order—"

"Yes, I know what the Order is," I cut in curtly. Dumbledore had approached me at the end of last year too . . . I met James's hazel eyes evenly, as though daring him to ask me what I knew he was burning to.

But all he said was, "Right. So . . . well, I don't really fancy staying home."

I nodded, suddenly feeling a strange sort of sympathy for him. "No, that's . . . that makes sense," I said, cringing inwardly at my complete lack of tact. "I'd have thought they'd put you four together, to be honest."

James shot me an incredulous look. "Would you?"

"Well, all right, no," I admitted after a moment of thought.

Finishing off his drink in three gulps, James pushed the empty glass towards me and stood up.

"Leaving already?" I asked, taking my arms off the bar and straightening as well.

"Nope—wouldn't want to deprive you of my presence so cruelly, Evans," Potter assured me with a wink.

"Yes, that would be a tragedy. How would I go on?"

"Much the same as usual, I'd expect."

I laughed. "Very true. I suppose it—" but I stopped abruptly as James planted his hands firmly on the bar, jumped up, and twisted so he was sitting on the wooden surface.

"Potter!" I snapped as he pulled his feet up and stood, earning a few curious glances from those around him. "You can't be up there!"

Potter grinned crookedly down at me. "You always were a stickler for the rules, Evans. But I'm doing you a favor, trust me."

"By what? Doing a table dance? Trust me, Potter, if I wanted to see that I'd—"

But James wasn't paying me any attention. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled, "Everyone, can I have your attention for a moment?"

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter?" I hissed up at him.

Ignoring me again, Potter looked around to gauge the reaction to his request. A few people were watching or laughing at him, but most were ignoring the crazy young man on the bar. Putting two fingers in his mouth, Potter let out a sharp whistle, no doubt perfected during hours of captaining the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Merlin," I muttered, flinching and rubbing my ears.

Having effectively gained the attention of the entire room now, James turned and held a hand down to me.

I snorted and shook my head. "If you want me to get up there with you, you're dreaming."

"Come on, Evans, play along." Potter wiggled his fingers cajolingly. I merely crossed my arms and raised a challenging eyebrow.

Of course, I should have known better than to challenge Potter.

With a sigh and a muttered, "You always have to be so difficult, don't you?", Potter stooped down, grabbed me by the shoulders and, before I had quite realized what was happening, pulled me easily up beside him.

"What are you—" I started again, but Potter cut across me, addressing the crowded bar once more.

"So, this is my fr—well, anyway, this lovely young woman has been feeling a bit lonely lately—"

"Potter," I growled warningly.

"And I thought, you know, I bet some of you fine people would be willing to give her some loving. Come on, any takers?" He turned to me with a wicked grin. I was staring at him, stunned. Had he really just—"Wave to the nice people, Evans," James said as wolf whistles and cat call exploded around us, and it was the smug confidence in his voice that finally snapped me out of my shock.

"What the _hell _was that for?" I shouted, pushing him roughly with every intention of knocking him off the bar. Infuriatingly, however, he only stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance. When I raised my hands to push him again, James grabbed them in his much larger ones and kept my violence at bay with very little effort.

Relaxing in exasperated defeat, I let my arms go limp, but I was glaring at Potter so fiercely I half-expected his hair to start on fire.

"Why don't you take her home, mate!" someone shouted from a table near the back, breaking James's and my gaze as we both turned to find the source. "Seems like there's something there already, eh?" The wizard winked heartily at James. I caught sight of Luanne just a few feet to his right, laughing so hard she was holding onto a chair for support. Blushing, I looked back at James.

He glanced down, and I followed his gaze to where our hands were still clasped together. Dropping mine swiftly, James reached up a hand to ruffle his hair, and I cringed at the old habit. "Ah, you flatter me, sir," he called back. "But though this may seem like a lover's play-fight"—he jumped back beyond arm's reach as I made another angry swipe at him—"Lily would, in fact, like to kill me at the moment, or at the very least seriously maim my . . . er . . . valuables. And as I'm quite keen on keeping my bits attached and all in once piece, I really think I'd better not push her." And with that, James jumped down on the serving side of the bar and held a hand out for me.

Ignoring it, I crouched down to sit on the bar top and hopped from there to the floor. Whipping my wand from where I'd had it tucked behind my ear, I pointed it threateningly at Potter and snarled, "What the fuck, Potter? That was _not _funny; I don't appreciate being _sold off_, and . . . and you are not allowed behind here!"

"Oh, hey, now—I wasn't _selling _you," Potter protested, scurrying backwards as I jabbed my wand in his face. "All right, I'm going, I'm going." He moved around to sit back on his stool.

I kept my wand on him for a couple of seconds, and he folded his arms and smiled pleasantly at me. Finally putting it away, I shook my head. "You know, we might have actually been getting somewhere beyond the point of me wanting to toss you out the nearest window every time you open your mouth, but . . ."

"Ah, well, I'll cut my losses," James said, unbothered. "It's only a matter of time, anyway—you heard that bloke in the back—"

Grabbing the beer tap, I shot a spray of butterbeer straight into James's face. He spluttered and coughed, blinking in outraged shock at me through his spotted glasses.

I smirked at him in satisfaction. "That'll be seven sickles, Potter."


	2. More or Less

**A/N: Whipped out this chapter before I left, like a boss. I'm not as happy with it as the first one, but….*shrug***

**Oh, and I felt like I should mention that this isn't going to be a very long story, probably 6-7 chapters at most. Just so you're prepared ;)**

**A thank you to those who reviewed the first chapter! Thanks: movinggirl, ThereNBack, PenonPaperFingersonKeys, Andrea, rodo272, superficialowl, sugarquills-and-lillies, Can't we just be death eaters, IIManzaII, Sam-EvansBlue, Jenn222, Menolly Harper, and tardisinthesgc!  
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><p><strong>Chapter 2: More or Less<strong>

"Hey there, stranger."

I turned around quickly, a smile already on my face before the owner of the voice came into view. Letting out a high-pitched and very un-Lily squeal, I ran over and threw my arms around my best friend from Hogwarts, Marlene McKinnon. "What are you doing here, Marls?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "You know you're the only person I'll allow to call me that."

"It's because you love me."

"And you're lucky I do."

"Oh, I thank Merlin every day."

Marlene laughed. "Anyway, I'm here for you, you dolt, what else? It's been so absurdly long since I've seen you, after all."

"A travesty, to be sure," I agreed solemnly. I looked over to the bar, where Tom—owner of the Leaky Cauldron—was wiping down the countertop. He always worked the day shifts, and I knew he wouldn't mind giving me a few minutes to chat with Marlene—it was Tuesday afternoon, and only two people occupied seats at the bar, while the tables and booths were empty. "Tom, I'll be back in a minute, all right?" I called over.

The older man looked up, revealing several missing teeth as he smiled at me. "Fine, Lily, just be back before dinner starts up."

"Come on, I wouldn't leave for that long; you have so little faith in me, Tom," I teased.

He just grinned at me again and went back to his cleaning.

Looping my arm through Marlene's, I led her out the back and through the brick wall into Diagon Alley. It was cloudy and a little chilly outside, and only a few shoppers were braving the unfavorable weather, darting quickly from shop to shop. I didn't mind the cold, though—it was always hot in the Cauldron.

"So, my darling, dearest friend, how's life?" I asked as we passed the Apothecary.

"A little too exciting for my taste, to be perfectly honest," Marlene said carefully, glancing at me.

I nodded. I always hated when the Order came up, and she knew it, but honestly what else was she supposed to talk about? It quite literally was her life now. "Mmm, I'm sorry," I said, cringing at my lame response.

Marlene sighed and squeezed my arm tighter. "I know you hate talking about it, Lily, and I'm not exactly burning to discuss this either, so . . . let's just move on to something else?"

I smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you. Well, my life won't really offer any avenues for discussion, unfortunately."

"Is that so?" Marlene asked, and the mischievous tone in her voice caused me to look at her sharply. She raised an eyebrow. "How is James, anyway?"

My eyes narrowed and I felt my lips purse into a thin line. "You heard about that, did you?"

"James told us," Marlene explained simply, and to my surprise I felt a pang at the way she said 'us'. Though I'd never have willingly spent time with the Marauders during school, I missed being . . . part of something. That's what this had been about from the beginning, hadn't it? And now I was starting to think I'd thrown that all away . . .

"Lily!" Marlene's insistent tone broke through my thoughts. I blinked and turned to her, watching as her eyebrows climbed high on her forehead. "You still with me?"

Trying to smile normally, I nodded. "Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"

Marlene watched me closely for a moment before evidently (and thankfully) deciding not to push further on the matter. "I asked how it was possible you and Potter hadn't killed each other yet."

I sighed. "Honestly? I have no idea." We wandered absently into Flourish and Blotts, slowly making our way down the aisles of books.

The tiniest of sly smiles tilting her lips, my friend continued, "Told you he wasn't all bad."

Doing my best not to roll my eyes at the old argument, I retorted, "He tried to solicit me for sex the other night. Well, more solicit on my behalf, but all the same . . ."

Marlene snorted. "Oh Merlin, I'd have paid good money to see that!"

"He didn't feel it necessary to share that particular tidbit with everyone?" I asked in some surprise.

"No, that's a new one," Marlene said, shaking her head as she picked up a copy of _Defensive Spells and Their Origins_. She flipped through it quickly before replacing it on the self and moving down the row once more.

"See, that's what he does," I said, letting out a frustrated sigh which teased the wayward strands of hair that had escaped from my ponytail. "He'll do something decent one moment, ruin it with something prick-ish the next, and then upset the balance _again_ by being almost _considerate_, before he—"

"Mucks it up yet again, yes I get it," Marlene interrupted, amused.

I frowned skeptically at her, wondering if she was mocking me. Probably. Choosing to ignore this for the moment, I said, "Well, it's true. Don't try to tell me it isn't."

"Oh Lily, I gave up on that battle a long time ago."

"Good," I said, running my eyes idly over the titles in the Charms section.

We browsed quietly for a moment, before Marlene sighed loudly. I raised my eyebrows at her in question. She smiled briefly, and said, "Sorry, it's just . . . I miss seeing you, Lil."

"You're seeing me right now," I pointed out with a grin.

Marlene glared at me. "You know what I mean."

I sighed. We were getting dangerously close to the untouchable subject again . . . "I know. And I miss you too, of course."

"You don't sound so sincere," Marlene accused with a quirk of her thin eyebrows.

I cringed because it was true—I'd intentionally kept my voice light in hopes the conversation wouldn't take an unwanted turn. "Marls . . ." I started.

She laughed. "I'm just kidding, Lily, I know you're bad at the 'feelings' thing. And I know you miss me. I'm incredible; how could you not?"

"Careful, Marls, you're sounding a bit like Potter."

"Why, you miss him too?" she asked slyly.

I pulled a book at random from the shelf and mimed throwing it at her. She flinched back instinctively, but her smile didn't falter.

"Sometimes, Marls," I muttered, replacing the book.

Marlene took my arm again and we stepped back outside.

* * *

><p>We said our goodbyes just outside the brick walled entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. I begged her to stay for the first part of my evening shift, but Marlene insisted she needed to take a nap before going on duty that night, and I reluctantly watched her Apparate from the alley.<p>

Sighing, and lamenting the harsh, friendless realities of life after school, I returned to the Cauldron to find an even more unpleasant reality awaiting me there. Joking, laughing, and looking as ready to bring on the chaos as ever (though perhaps that was merely my biased perspective), Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James were seated at the far corner table James had occupied the first night I'd served him. I looked hopefully towards the bar, but of course it was now half full of waiting witches and wizards, and when I caught Tom's eye, he nodded significantly at the Marauder's table.

_And the fun never ends_. I started for the table, trying to predict who out of Potter and Black would notice me first . . .

"Lily Evans, as I live and breathe!"

_Black it is. Congratulations_.

"Ah, life makes sense once again," Sirius continued with a falsely wistful sigh. "Oh, how I rue the day we parted, Evans, for parting is such sweet sorrow—"

I'd nearly forgotten how Black and Potter used to tag-team flirt with me, but the memories returned now with a vengeance. "Okay, please never quote Shakespeare to me again, Black," I interrupted sharply, holding up a hand to cut him off. He complied, grinning, and I turned to Potter. "Are you _trying _to kill me, Potter?"

"Not intentionally, no," he replied pleasantly. "The lads wanted to see you again, that's all—so I took the liberty of asking Luanne last Friday for your schedule this week. Not that there was much point to it; you're here all the bloody time, apparently. Do you even sleep, Evans?"

I sighed. "Remind me to kill Lu," I muttered, ignoring James's question. "Hello Remus, Peter," I greeted the remaining Marauders belatedly. "I am actually glad to see you two."

Peter smiled nervously at me, and Remus said, "How've you been, Lily?"

"Mmm, well enough, I suppose—I'll catch you up sometime when you're not with these prats," I gestured at Black and Potter, both of whom feigned offense.

Remus grinned. "Fair enough."

"So, what can I get you lot?" I asked.

After taking their order—shepherd's pie for Remus, steak and kidney pie for Peter, fish and chips for Potter and Black, and butterbeers all around—I ducked into the kitchen to relay it before heading to the bar and grabbing four mugs. Filling them swiftly, I took two in each hand and headed for the corner table.

As I set the mugs down, Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Carried all those over without magic? Impressive. And speaking of things you've no doubt acquired some skill in, I'm curious—does the offer still stand?"

James snorted into his butterbeer, but I frowned at Sirius. "What offer?"

"The one with the sex," Sirius replied blatantly, grinning easily at me. I saw Remus grimace out of the corner of my eye.

Flushing straight to the roots of my hair, I rounded on Potter. _Wish Marlene was here_, I thought, disgruntled. _Potter's just perfectly proved my point about him. _"You _told _them about that?" I demanded, smacking the back of his head.

"Merlin," James grumbled, rubbing the spot. "It—might have slipped out, yeah."

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Because it wasn't bad enough _doing_ it in the first place?"

"We did have to work a bit to get it out of him," Peter jumped in.

"I don't care if you hung him by his ankles and pulled out his fingernails one by one—" I started.

"Well, that's a bit extreme," Sirius said. "But speaking of stringing people up—what's your position on bondage, Evans?"

My mouth dropped open. "You are _disgusting,_ Sirius Black—Potter, I swear to _Merlin_—"

"All right, you win," Potter said, relenting much easier than I'd expected. "Sirius, stop propositioning her." His best mate sat back with a huff, though he snuck a wink at me when Potter turned away. "You're lucky you're our main supply of food and alcohol tonight, Evans, or you know I'd never back down that quickly."

"Oh, believe me, Potter, I never make the mistake of underestimating you."

He raised his eyebrows, amusement making his lips twitch. "Really? Because one _could _argue that it was just such a mistake that led to this whole fiasco in the first place."

I let out a frustrated noise. "You're impossible, Potter."

He grinned. "Thank you."

"Thankfully, I've got a job to get back to, so I'll leave you lot in . . . well, 'peace' doesn't quite feel right . . . please try not to blow anything up."

"Can't make any promises, love," Sirius answered.

"Don't worry, Lily, I'll keep them in line," Remus assured me with an apologetic smile.

I smiled back ruefully. "Remus, I love you, but we both know that's never worked before. And don't try to tell me you weren't the mastermind behind most of the stunts you all pulled when we were in school."

Instead of trying to deny it, as I might have expected, Remus just grinned again. "Well, you can't honestly believe these dolts came up with everything on their own, can you?"

James and Sirius both moved to hit him with their empty butterbeer mugs, but Remus slid down the bench out of reach.

I laughed. "See, this is why I'm happy to see you, Remus. It's a shame you can't come along with Potter when he stalks me on Fridays."

"I do not _stalk _you, Evans," James protested indignantly. "I just enjoy our little chats, that's all." But he smirked as he said it.

"Call it what you will, Potter, but I maintain the fact that _I _don't enjoy them gives it stalker-ish tendencies. A rose by any other name, after all." I raised an eyebrow at Sirius, who made a little bow to me in his seat.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" James muttered to him, folding his arms.

"Whichever one is the winning side. And at the moment, mate, I'm afraid to say that's Evans."

I propped one hand on my hip, shaking my head at Sirius. "You know, perhaps I misjudged you after all, Black."

James's frown deepened. "Merlin, now I'm wondering why I brought you here at all, Padfoot."

"Finally, something we can agree on," I said, smirking at James.

* * *

><p>That Friday, James arrived a few hours later than usual. I didn't realize I was watching for him until Luanne came up to me and said in a low voice, "Keep your skirt on, hon, he'll be here."<p>

I looked at her sharply, my cheeks reddening as I saw her amused smile. "I—that's not—all right, fine." I knew there was no point in lying to Lu; she could always tell. "I've just gotten used to it, I guess. It's not like I'd miss it if he never—stop it, Lu, I wouldn't!"

"Sure, sure, Lily. Well, lucky for you, you won't have to prove it." She nodded towards the door, where James had just entered. He caught my eye, grinned, and gestured to an empty table on the left side of the bar. I nodded, pulling a glass from under the counter as James wound his way over to the table.

"Still can't show up on time, can you, Potter?" I teased as I set his usual firewhiskey in front of him.

He smiled, toasting me with his drink before downing nearly half of it in one gulp. "Remus had the night off," he explained raising his eyebrows significantly at me.

I'd learned of my friend's lycanthropy in fourth year, after accidentally stumbling on a passage about werewolves during a Defense project.

"Oh, right—I didn't even realize tonight was—that it's . . . that night."

James smiled slightly at my awkward phrasing. "Yeah, we—Sirius, Peter, and I—take it in turns to check up on him . . . before and after."

I nodded, unconsciously sliding into the booth across from James, who raised his eyebrows briefly but didn't comment. "Is he—how is he?"

James shrugged. "Dealing with it, same as ever."

I sighed, tracing the lines of wood on the table absently with my finger. Searching for something to say, I was relieved when James spoke again.

"Anyway, sorry to keep you waiting—I'm sure you were checking the door anxiously every five minutes." He grinned teasingly, and I tried my best to stop the blush that threatened at the truth of his words.

"If I was, it was only in the hopes that you wouldn't show," I said, but the protest sounded half-hearted even to my ears. "You're still not forgiven for the sex thing, though," I added sternly.

James rolled his eyes. "You've got to let things go, sometimes, Evans."

"A learned habit, when it comes to you," I returned, and James's eyes flew to mine. I shook my head almost instantly. "Sorry. I—let's not do this. It's gotten a bit old, after all."

"Right," James said, and I couldn't understand why he sounded angry. Surely he didn't _want _to fight with me about the past? "So, tell me, Evans, how'd you end up here, anyway? Last I heard you wanted to do investigative journalism at the Ministry."

I wrinkled my nose. Not exactly my first choice for a change of topic. "Well, plans change," I started evasively, hoping he'd take the hint.

But it was Potter, so of course there was no such luck. "Seems to me you were fairly dead set on it," he said, frowning.

I let out a short sigh. "And now I'm not."

"I've never pegged you as one for giving up, Evans."

I stood abruptly. "Look, if you're just going to sit here and judge my life choices—"

James grabbed my wrist as I made to stalk away. "Hey, now, calm down, Evans," he said, sounding frustrated. He didn't release my arm right away, as though afraid I'd just continue walking if he did. "I'm not _judging _you; just curious why you changed your mind. If you don't want to tell me, obviously, that's—"

I sighed, pulling my arm free and sitting down again. "No, it's fine," I interrupted, feeling a little guilty for getting so defensive. Pausing, I tried to decide where to start. Finally, I said bluntly, "Well, as it turns out, the Ministry's not hiring muggleborns at the moment. Shocking, I know," I added dryly.

James winced. "Oh, right . . . er, sorry."

I smiled wryly. "Didn't pay attention in class again, Potter?"

He grinned back. "At least this time it wasn't because I was trying to annoy the hell out of you."

I laughed in spite of myself. "Yes, at least there's that."

James paused. "You don't want me to ask why you didn't join the Order, do you?" he asked finally, watching me closely.

"Not really, if it can be avoided," I admitted.

He nodded. "Fair enough."

I raised my eyebrows. "That easy, huh?"

James grinned again. "Might have underestimated me too, d'you think?"

"Mmm, I don't think so."

James sighed, the sound purposefully dramatic. "I am trying, Evans, and it hurts me that you can't appreciate that."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to try harder, won't you?" I asked, smiling slyly at him.

"Are you flirting with me, Miss Evans?"

"In your dreams, Potter."

"You know, I have had some intriguing ones about you lately, you might be interested to hear." His hazel eyes glinted behind his glasses, that same spark he always got when he was intentionally provoking me.

"Oh, look, big group of wizards just walked in," I said, pointing to the door where several young men were, in fact, scanning the room for an open table. I stood up, grabbing James's empty glass as I did so. "Another?"

"If you're offering."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to discern whether there was a second meaning intended behind his words, but Potter just grinned innocently at me. "I really hate you, you know," I grumbled.

"I'm aware of the fact, yes."

"As long as we understand each other," I said, starting for the bar.

"More than you know, Evans."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: All right, I'm off to London in approximately...2 hours...so no idea when I'll update next. Thanks for reading! Peace  
><strong>


	3. The Days That Never Fade

**A/N: Hey HEY hey!**

**Okay, seriously, London was ah-freaking-mazing you guys. I still can't believe I saw the whole cast and JK ROWLING in real life….oh, and Rupert Grint signed my copy of PoA, so that was pretty cool :)**

**Also, Deathly Hallows part 2? Who went at midnight? I won't say anything here in case you haven't seen it yet, besides that it was amazing and a perfect end to an incredible era.**

**Lots of love to last week's reviewers: WobblyJelly, mimimk123, black16lily, 1hannah1, RidingonRumbleroar'sback, Ulin, DarlingILoveYou, sugarquills-and-lillies, tardisinthesgc, movinggirl, ThereNBack, Evisawesome, Can't we just be death eaters, and Jenn222!**

**Oh, there's a flashback in this chapter-should be pretty obvious, but it's in italics for clarity's sake :)  
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><p><strong>Chapter 3: The Days That Never Fade<strong>

It's never good when you wake up with the full knowledge that your day is going to be terrible.

I'd already snapped at Luanne twice, broken four glasses, and had three drinks 'accidentally' spilled on me. A fierce headache had sprung up just a few minutes into my shift and refused to go away. And it was a Thursday night, which meant no Potter to lighten my sour mood, as I'd discovered he was unsettlingly good at doing. I knew the fact that I desperately wished he was coming in tonight probably forebode unpleasant things about my sanity, but I didn't have the energy to deal with that at the moment.

"Lily, table seven needs another round," Luanne said as she passed me to fill Mr. Gathje's glass again.

"Right," I said, pulling three empties off the bar top and pushing them underneath it as I turned to face her. One missed the shelf, however, and I let out a frustrated growl as I heard the tinkling of broken glass for the fifth time that night. "Well, unfortunately, I'm covering about a hundred tables right now and have just broken my zillionth glass, so they'll just have to wait, won't they?" I snapped.

Luanne raised her eyebrows at me as she pointed her wand at the shards on the floor. They flew together immediately, the seamlessly repaired glass landing back on the shelf with the other dirty ones. "You all right, hon?"

I sighed, closing my eyes briefly and rubbing at my throbbing head. "No," I said bluntly. "But I shouldn't have yelled at you—sorry. I'll just . . ." I turned around to get some empty mugs, but Luanne forestalled me with a hand on my wrist.

"No, don't worry, I'll get them," she assured me. "Why don't you take a breather, hmm?"

"Thanks," I said, smiling gratefully at her. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time, love."

I ducked outside into the alley between the Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley. The sticky summer night air hardly felt comforting, but the quiet soothed my pounding head. _July twelfth,_ I mused to myself, _will apparently be a shitty day for the indeterminable future._ I'd thought things were getting better. I mean, sure, the first few months had been hell, but slowly—very slowly—life had settled back to (almost) normal. But the anniversary of that terrible day had brought everything back.

Suddenly realizing that I needed the distraction of the bar, I pulled open the door, welcoming the noise even as it pushed painfully against my temples.

* * *

><p>"You're sure you don't want me to stay instead?"<p>

I waved her off. "It's fine, Lu—I'm sure Tom'll be along in a minute. You know he hates staying up too late. Which has always made me wonder why he decided to open a bar, of all things."

Luanne grinned. "He is a strange one, to be sure. Well, I'll see you tomorrow, love." She kissed my cheek and left, the bell over the door twinkling cheerily as it swung shut behind her.

I wiped idly at a beer stain on the bar while I waited for Tom. He always dropped by to close up the bar each night after we'd managed to pry the mug from the last alcohol-seeking customer and send him on his stumbling way.

The bell over the door rang again, and I looked up expecting Tom, but the newcomer was none other than James Potter, who was wearing a jacket, despite the heat.

I stared at him for a moment in surprise. "Hi," I said, finally.

He grinned. "Hi, yourself."

My eyes narrowed. "You've been here barely five seconds and you're mocking me already?"

Potter shrugged. "It's one of my many talents," he said breezily.

"Fantastic," I muttered dryly. "I'll have to—hang on, what _are _you doing here?"

James suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, I—that is—er, I got off late and . . . I suppose I just fancied a drink."

I raised a doubtful eyebrow. "You couldn't have made one at home?"

"Yes, but I was starving as well, and I'm a rubbish cook, so—" He stopped, looking around as though just noticing the emptiness of the bar. "Damn, you're closed, aren't you?"

I nodded. "But it's fine, I can get you something."

"Or we could go somewhere else," James suggested.

"Well, I've got to wait here for Tom," I started to explain. "Besides, I feel and look like crap, so I'd rather not show my face in public."

James rolled his eyes. "Who would care?

"Are you saying I _do _look like crap?" I accused, hands springing to my hips.

"Of course not, love."

Before I could come up with a retort, Tom walked through the door behind James.

"Lily," he greeted me with a smile, starting for the bar.

"Tom, I'll take care of it tonight," I said, walking over to him. "I'm just going to get James"—I hooked a thumb at Potter—"something, and then we'll be out of here. I promise."

Tom frowned uncertainly. "If you're sure . . ."

"It's not a problem," I assured him. "And I've worked here over a year, so I think I can handle closing for one night if that's what you're worried about."

The older man shook his head. "No, no, I'm not doubting you. Well, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then."

"I'll be there," I said.

Tom started upstairs to his little flat above the Cauldron, and James said, "Lily, it's fine, really, I can just—"

"Sit," I commanded, pointing him to the nearest booth and moving towards the bar. "And why are you wearing a jacket?" I added as James obeyed my order and I filled up a glass for him. "It's the middle of summer."

James unzipped the jacket but left it on. "I was in the Department of Mysteries tonight, and it's bloody cold down there."

I frowned. "What where you doing there?"

"I—er—can't really say," James answered apologetically.

"Oh. Right." I set his customary firewhiskey in front of James and hurried into the back kitchen. Pointing my wand at a leftover plate of cold chips so that they steamed with heat once more, I brought them back out and placed them on the table as well.

James glanced down at them and back up at me as I slid in across from him. "No need to outdo yourself, Evans, it's only me," he said dryly.

I pulled out the towel I used to wipe down glasses and smacked him on the head with it. "Shove off—I'm a rubbish cook too, so this is what you get."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," James decided, popping a chip into his mouth. "Just barely, though."

"Prick."

"Original, Evans."

I sighed. "Stuff it, Potter, I've had a long day, all right?"

James looked at me for a moment. "Sorry," he said finally, though I had the feeling he'd wanted to say something else.

"Not your fault," I muttered, picking at a loose splinter on the table.

James ate in silence for a bit, then cleared his throat. "Look, Evans, I—I've something of a confession to make. About why I came here."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That you're a raging alcoholic, so much so that you can't go home at two in the morning and go to bed like a normal person, you've got to come here and drink it off?"

He frowned at me. "No. I'm trying to be serious, here."

"Are you? Well, shall I alert the _Prophet_?"

"Evans . . ."

I bit my lip to hide a grin. "Sorry. Go on."

"Right, well, I was just . . ." James rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling with the frame of his glasses with the other hand, and my forehead wrinkled slightly at his sudden awkwardness. Setting both hands firmly on the table, James finished, "I wanted to make sure you were . . . okay, you know, since today is . . . well, I knew it'd be . . . hard."

I just stared at him, feeling a flush start to creep up my neck as I inevitably remembered back to the fall of our seventh year, wondering if James was remembering too.

* * *

><p><em>I thought being back at Hogwarts would help. But it only reinforces the idea that it truly is my only home now. It brings back all the memories of fighting with Petunia, those first fractures in our family, and now that it had been shattered . . .<em>

_It's the first time I am grateful for the traditional first night party, the last hurrah before classes started. The pounding music nearly drowns out my thoughts, and the copious amounts of alcohol will do the rest of the work._

"_Lily, are you sure this is healthy?" Marlene asks tentatively after my third drink._

"_Nope," I say. "But I'll take a bad hangover tomorrow if it means I can stop thinking about my dead parents tonight."_

_My friend winces, and I feel a small pang of guilt. "Just . . . be careful, all right?" she says. "I know it's—"_

_My guilt is suddenly replaced with anger. "No, you don't know, actually," I snap. "So just . . . stop. Stop trying to help me."_

_Marlene's eyes flash with hurt, but it is soon replaced with a pity that's almost worse. "Fine," she says, the coolness in her voice belying the pain that has disappeared from her eyes. "But I won't let you do this to yourself forever."_

"_Excellent," I say sarcastically, "glad we straightened that out."_

_Raising her eyebrows, Marlene walks away without replying. No longer wanting to be in the common room, I push through the portrait hole into the corridor outside, walking purposelessly for a few minutes before shutting myself in an empty classroom. In the quiet, all the memories of two months ago come flooding back. "There was an accident, Lily . . . Mum and Dad . . . dead instantly . . ." Petunia's sobbing voice fills my head, and tears start to fall unbidden from my own eyes._

_I hear the laughter about five seconds before the two teenagers stumble through the door. I swipe hastily at the wetness on my cheeks as I look up to see Potter and his latest conquest locking lips against the door. The girl's eyes open briefly, then widen as she sees me and abruptly shoves Potter away._

"_Aw, come on, Jess, I thought we were getting on fi—" he cuts himself off, spotting me as well. "Evans," he says, hazel eyes widening in surprise behind crooked glasses._

_Jess mumbles something that might have been 'sorry', and hurries from the room without seeing if Potter is following._

_He glances after her briefly, straightens his glasses, then looks back at me. "Er . . ." he starts._

_I sigh shortly. My head is buzzing, and I feel as though I might fall over at any moment. "Go on, take care of your latest victim," I tell him._

_Potter grins. "Now, that's hardly an appropriate term—I am an excellent snogger. I could demonstrate now for you, if you'd like."_

"_Not in the mood, Potter," I say tiredly._

_His face sobers. "Right. I . . . er, heard about . . . well, I'm . . . I'm sorry, Evans."_

"_Thanks," I whisper, staring at my feet, which are zooming in and out of focus._

_Potter doesn't reply, but he doesn't leave, either. It's weird, standing there and not fighting with him. Suddenly the words 'perfect distraction' float through my mind, and before I've given it a second thought—or any thought at all, really—I'm suddenly launching myself at Potter, lips pressing roughly against his._

_His arms automatically move to pull me closer, even as he leans his head back, breaking our kiss. "W-what?" he stutters. "Don't you—I thought you didn't—"_

"_Shut up," I demand, kissing him again. This time Potter kisses me back, and as my mouth opens under his, his hands move down my back and lower, pulling my hips against him. One of my legs wraps around his waist, and Potter stoops slightly to grab the other and lift me onto the desk behind me. His hands fumble to work my blouse free from my skirt, running over the skin of my stomach before moving higher. When his palms press against my breasts, I moan into his mouth, my hands fisting in his hair as I arch forward to kiss him harder._

_Potter leans me back over the desk, one hand resting against it for support and the other grabbing my leg to wrap it around him again. As his lips move from my mouth to my neck, his hand slides slowly upwards along my inner thigh. Just as his fingers reach the hem of my knickers, I jump as though I've woken suddenly from a dream, hands detangling themselves from Potter's hair to shove him hard in the chest._

_He stumbles slightly as he backs away, and we both stare wide-eyed at each other for several long seconds. "S-sorry," Potter finally mumbles, but his hazel eyes refuse to leave mine._

_I look away, shaking so badly I can hardly straighten my blouse. Pulling down my skirt as I hop off the desk, I force myself to look at Potter again._

"_Evans, I—" he starts, and I leap forward to press a finger to his lips._

"_This never happened," I snap harshly. "All right?"_

"_I . . . all right."_

_I pretend not to notice how hard he slams the door as he leaves the room._

* * *

><p>"Oh . . . um, thanks," I said, feeling like an idiot for how red my face must have been. "But it's . . . well, it is what it is, so . . . what I'm trying to say is you didn't have to do that."<p>

James shrugged, draining the rest of his firewhiskey. "I wanted to do it; it's not like it was some huge inconvenience."

I smiled a little. "Well, I appreciate that."

Swallowing the last of the chips, James looked at me seriously. "Evans, do you . . ." But he shook his head. "No, never mind."

"What?"

"It's nothing," James said, breaking eye contact.

"Didn't sound like nothing," I said, my tone slightly teasing in the hopes that it would relieve how uncomfortable I suddenly felt.

But James just smiled faintly and looked away again.

I glanced away as well, looking down at my hands folded on the table. When I spoke again, I surprised myself with what came out, "You know, my parents are part of the reason I didn't join the Order."

James's eyes immediately snapped back to mine, though his expression was unreadable.

I leaned back in the booth with a sigh. "I guess . . . losing them was—was worse than anything I could have imagined up to that point. And it still is, sometimes, especially today. And . . . well, I couldn't stand thinking I might leave someone like that. I mean, right now there's not . . . maybe Marlene, but . . ." I shook my head. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" James didn't reply, and I shifted slightly in my seat, wishing I could tell what he was thinking. "It felt selfish, to risk my life—and that sounds horrible, since I don't even have a family right now, but . . . it wouldn't feel right leaving the Order later, if I did join, so . . . I just didn't."

When James continued to watch me silently, I propped my elbows on the table, hands coming up to hide my face. "I know, it's completely awful," I mumbled through my fingers. "Go ahead, call me a coward, demand to know what the hell I was thinking, storm out of here—"

"Don't be stupid, Evans," James interrupted, sounding frustrated. He pulled my hands away from my face. "It's your bloody life; no one can tell you how to live it."

I blinked at him in surprise. "You _are _James Potter, I suppose? I mean, you haven't been inhabited by some—"

James snorted angrily. "Damn it, Lily, would you stop? Not joining the Order doesn't make you a _coward_ or—or somehow _unworthy_, and it certainly doesn't make me think less of you—"

"Well, I'm not sure that's a compliment—depends on how highly you thought of me originally."

James ruffled his hair impatiently, glaring at me. "And you complain that I can never take anything seriously?" He leaned forward on the table. "You're brilliant, all right?"

I felt heat flare up in my cheeks again, and my throat was suddenly exceptionally dry. Swallowing, I tried to smile, and was fairly sure it came out normally enough. "Your alcoholism seems to have worked out in my favor after all."

James grinned. "Well, you know it's all for you, Evans," he said, and I was relieved that the James I was used to had returned. He slouched back in his seat again, his leg brushing briefly against mine as he did so. "Sorry," he said, shifting out of my way.

My leg twitched at his touch, and I had an immediate urge to press it against his again. I stood abruptly, grabbing James's empty glass and plate and starting for the bar. "We should probably get going," I said over my shoulder, ducking down to put the glass away. Waving my wand to clean it, I did the same to the plate and brought it into the kitchen. When I returned, I found James zipping up his jacket, and if he was surprised at my sudden departure, he didn't show it.

"I can Apparate you home," James offered.

"It's literally fifty feet away from that wall," I said, gesturing towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. I found myself simultaneously wishing James would take that as a hint to part ways and hoping he'd argue back as he so often did.

"Well, I'll walk you, then," James said with a shrug.

After just the slightest of hesitations, I found myself agreeing. "All right."

We moved into the alley behind the Cauldron, pausing briefly on the other side so I could secure the magical lock. James tapped the bricks that would grant us access to the street beyond, and we set off through the deserted Alley.

Neither of us spoke, but my mind was so preoccupied I hardly noticed. I knew what I was about to do was stupid, though I somehow found I didn't care.

My heart pounding so loudly I half-expected Potter to comment on it, I led him up the two flights of stairs, stopping in front of the door to my tiny flat.

"Well, thanks for the drink, and the chips," James said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Sure, anytime," I said.

We stood looking at each other for a few more seconds, as I teetered on the precipice of what I knew had already been decided. As James opened his mouth to say something else, I grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him towards the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aaaaand that'll be continued in the next chapter, fyi—don't worry, I won't just leave it to your imaginations. That being said, if you're not into smut, you might want to skip the first part of the next chapter ;)**

**I know a lot of you wondered why Lily wasn't in the Order, and the explanation I just gave probably didn't satisfy some of you—that's fine, I won't be offended if you hate it! (just know I might be steering that particular course back to canon in the future, though….)**

**And the transition to the flashback sucked. Sorry.**


	4. Connection

**A/N: Thanks a million to last week's reviewers: Menolly Harper, IndigoandViolet, deceptive shadows, SpiritedWind, Pink-And-Green-Jellybean, WobblyJelly, 1hannah1, anon, movinggirl, Jenn222, Romancing Hogwarts x3, AshleyM15, Jenndur, BlueJeanMistress, Maiqu, sugarquills-and-lillies, and RidingonRumblroar'sback!**

****So, smut. Smutty smut smut. First time I've attempted it, so go easy on me all right? Also, just sort of nervous in general about this chapter. Don't really know why. But anyway. Mkay, here we go! (oh, and any parallels you may or may not see to the flashback were intentional. ish.)**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4:<strong>

I pushed him inside, slamming the door behind us and pressing James against it, my lips seeking his hungrily. He made a surprised noise against my mouth, before pushing me away slightly. "Evans? What are you doing?"

I rolled my eyes. "What does it look like?" I broke from his grip to kiss him again, but was soon brought up short once more, James's hands on my arms firmer this time. "B-but . . . last time . . . that is, I mean, I'd like to think we've become sort of mates this summer, but do you really—"

"Potter," I gritted out through clenched teeth, "for once in your life, do yourself a favor and shut up."

James stared at me for a moment, before dropping my arms abruptly and pulling me against him, his mouth slamming onto mine. His tongue pushed between my lips, and my fingers tangled themselves in his hair. James's hands dropped from around my waist to unzip his jacket, which he quickly shrugged out of before starting to walk me clumsily backwards into my flat. We bumped against the walls, a table and a couple chairs, Potter stubbing his toe on the last one and breaking away from my mouth with a curse.

"Where the bloody fuck is your fucking bedroom?" he demanded, breath already short as he hopped on one foot, rubbing his injured foot.

Laughing, I pointed behind him to where my room was just visible through the cracked door. Finally getting a chance to actually look at him, I couldn't help blurting out, "Suspenders, Potter? You're wearing _suspenders_?"

He grinned, taking my hand to pull me into the bedroom. "What's wrong with suspenders?"

"I—nothing, I guess"—I untied my apron and let it fall to the floor—"just, well, they look strange on you, that's all. I mean, I never expected—"

"Evans," James interrupted, shutting my bedroom door and backing me against it. He leaned down until his breath tickled my ear. Running his tongue along the rim of it, he whispered, "Take your own advice and stop talking."

I shivered at both the touch of his tongue and the heat in his voice. "Right, sorry," I said, though my reply was somewhat impeded by James's tongue. As our mouths worked furiously together, I pulled the straps of James's suspenders over his arms, tugging his shirt free from his trousers and up over his head. Lips meeting again, James's hands came up to cup my face, then moved to push against my breasts.

A low moan rose in my throat, escaping my mouth as James's lips moved to my neck. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of my blouse, successfully undoing two before pulling impatiently at the fabric so that the rest popped off and scattered over the floor. He cupped my breasts briefly again, before grabbing me by the hips to pull me against him, lips wandering to my neck again.

I slid my hand between us, brushing my fingertips over James's stomach before running my hand over the front of his trousers and between his legs, gripping him. James groaned longingly, his breath hot against my skin and his fingers digging into my hips. He ran his tongue along my collarbone and over my shoulder, biting lightly at my skin before pulling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tilting his face up to kiss him again as he carried me over to the bed.

He sat down with my limbs still entangled with his, pulling back briefly to study my face, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"What?" I asked breathlessly, but James just shook his head, brushing his lips against mine in an unexpectedly sweet and gentle kiss. A thrill of something close to fear shot through me at the out-of-place gesture, though I wasn't sure why. In an attempt to ignore it, I fell back on the bed, pulling James with me and tugging lightly at his lower lip with my teeth.

James freed his lips to press them against my throat, hands working to remove my bra as I pulled off his glasses and reached out blindly behind me to set them on the small table by my bed. James's mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing small circles over my skin. Kissing my stomach, he sat up suddenly and pulled my skirt and knickers off in one swift motion.

I raised my eyebrows. "Practiced that one, have you?" I asked, though I was suddenly tingling all over with anticipation.

James just flashed me a wicked grin and bent over me once more, trailing slow kisses along my inner thigh. My hands fisted in the sheets as he moved higher, gasping as his tongue entered me. "_Merlin_, James," I moaned, my hands now gripping his hair as his tongue moved inside me. "Oh, _God_!" I cried out, my hips thrusting off the bed when he found my clit. "_James_ . . ." I moaned again, pleadingly.

He pulled out abruptly with a muted curse, hands fumbling to remove his trousers. I sat up to help him, and as his boxers followed the trousers to the floor, James grabbed my face and kissed me hard. Our tongues danced together once more as he bore me down onto the bed. I cried out again as he pulled his mouth away and thrust into me, one of his hands guiding my hips underneath him and the other gripping the back of the bed for support. His sweaty skin slid over mine, the feeling of our bodies rubbing together intoxicatingly arousing. James began thrusting inside me, his breath now coming in short grunts. I wrapped my legs around him to push him deeper, arching my back with a groan as waves of pleasure rippled through me.

A pressure that started between my thighs began to build and spread through my legs and stomach. "James," I heard myself moan, "faster." He complied, thrusting into me again and again. Suddenly needing his mouth on mine, I pulled his face up and slammed my lips against his. His pumping slowed momentarily as he kissed me, but resumed with renewed vigor when I whimpered in protest. James caught my lower lip briefly between his teeth, then ran his tongue along my jaw and down my throat, catching the beads of sweat that had formed there. My nails dug into his back as the pressure between my legs reached its breaking point, and I suddenly heard James's sharp intake of breath before he yelled out my name and released inside me.

We lay together for a moment, my breath coming in gasps and James's sharp and hot against my skin. He buried his head in my shoulder briefly, then pulled out of me slowly and rolled onto his side. Propping himself up on an elbow, he ran his finger gently over my check and down my jaw. "You're perfect, Lily," he whispered, and as I looked into his hazel eyes, still dark with desire, a wave of panic swept through me. I sat up abruptly, and James pushed himself up beside me, frowning.

"You okay?" he asked, touching my shoulder.

I tried not to flinch and forced myself to nod in answer to his question. "Fine," I said, voice coming out slightly higher than I intended. _I need to get out of here_, I thought desperately, my panicked brain searching for an escape. "Er . . . don't be offended or—or anything, it's just a weird personal . . . habit . . . thing, but I—er—need to jump in the shower."

James's forehead creased further for a moment, but was soon smooth once more. "All right," he said. Then, raising an eyebrow, he added, "Want some company?"

"No," I answered. "That's, um . . . no, you can . . . sleep."

Eyes narrowing again, James searched my face carefully. "You're sure you're all right? I didn't . . . hurt you, or anything?"

"No," I said again, trying to smile at him. In the hopes of allaying his suspicions, I kissed him quickly. "I'll be right back."

I could feel James's eyes follow me as I pushed myself up off the bed, and I was suddenly exceptionally aware of how very naked I was. I forced down the urge to sprint to the bathroom and slam the door, making myself walk at a normal pace until I'd shut the door quietly behind me. As I took my hand away from the doorknob, I found that it was shaking uncontrollably. Turning the water on and spinning the knob all the way to cold, I jumped under the pounding stream, gasping as the frigid water hit my sweaty body.

I stood there shivering for several minutes, trying to calm myself down. But thoughts of what had just happened, and what it meant, kept crowding into my brain and sending me into a panic all over again.

I'd shagged James Potter.

I, Lily Evans, had shagged James Potter.

That wasn't supposed to happen. We weren't . . . that wasn't how it was between us. We were supposed to argue, and tease, and make snide comments about each other, not . . . not . . . My mind conjured up the feeling of his hands running over my skin, and I flushed despite the cold.

The worst part was that I'd been the one to start all of it. I'd brought James back to my flat, fully knowing what I intended to do once we got there. And so I had no right to be panicking now, moments after we'd . . . _Merlin_, I couldn't even think the word anymore.

_What the fuck am I going to do?_

But finally my brain was silent, offering no answer to my pleading question.

I couldn't just order James to leave. I couldn't tell him that it had been a mistake, because he'd . . . well, I wasn't sure what he'd do, but I couldn't bear to do that to him. Again. Most importantly, I couldn't tell him that the reason I was so scared was that a small part of me was absolutely sure I was falling for him.

I forced this last thought away, a new thrill of panic crashing through me again. Certain I would freeze to death soon, I cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my green eyes wide and my lips standing out harshly against my pale skin. They had a slightly blue tinge to them, though whether it was due to the cold shower or the fact that I was still hyperventilating slightly, I had no idea.

As I stared at my pathetic reflection, I felt tears well up in my eyes. If only Potter had never walked into the Cauldron that first night . . . But I shook my head, knowing this had started long before that Friday in June. We'd always had a strange chemistry between us, one I had denied again and again, though I'd slipped up once in the vulnerable aftermath of my parents' death. I'd told myself it wouldn't happen again, that as much as he tried to convince me otherwise, we were wrong for each other. And yet, look where I'd landed us now.

Sex complicated things. A heated snog in an abandoned classroom was easily forgotten . . . or, at least _possibly_ forgotten, but sex . . . there was no going back, no pretending it hadn't happened. And the fact that it had been mind-blowingly fantastic sex only made it that much _more _complicated.

_Well, I can't stand shivering in a bathroom all night_. Wiping my eyes decisively, I eased the bathroom door open. Peering out, I saw that James was asleep on the bed, his breathing slow and even. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, because at least I wouldn't have to face him and his frighteningly sweet words and gentle kisses until morning.

Not relishing the thought of sleeping naked next to an equally naked Potter, I pulled my knickers on and, though I knew it probably meant something that my already terrified brain shouldn't be expected to handle, I picked up James's discarded shirt and put it on as well. Climbing carefully into bed, I rolled onto my side with my back to Potter.

Evidently, he hadn't actually been asleep, because moments after I lay down, I heard him moving and seconds later felt his lips against my shoulder. "Bloody hell, Evans, your skin is freezing," he muttered, running his hand down my arm before wrapping it around my waist and pulling me against him. He buried his face in my wet hair briefly before tucking my head under his chin. "Night, Evans," he murmured.

"Night," I whispered back, wondering how the hell I was going to fall asleep in Potter's arms. But the warmth of his body and the simple human comfort of being held like that somehow managed to lull me into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>After waking late the next morning, I nearly leapt out of my bed in shock when I heard someone breathing quietly beside me. Remembering just in time exactly why there was another person in my bed, I almost jumped out of it anyway, as all the memories of the previous night came rushing back in perfect, dreaded, and confusing detail. Sitting up slowly so as to not wake James, I looked down at him, immediately flushing at his blatantly naked self sprawled across my bed. Forcing my eyes to his face, I couldn't help smiling a bit at his expression, brow knitted tightly as though in deep concentration. <em>Of course the only time Potter's actually serious about something is when he sleeps<em>.

Almost of their own accord, my eyes drifted along his sharp jaw line, over the lightly defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, and down the indentations of his hipbones to—I jerked my head around, reddening again. _Good Merlin, what is wrong with me? How is it possible that I'm simultaneously panicking over having him in my bed and fantasizing about shagging him again?_

Deciding that the best thing for my sanity was to leave the room altogether, I swung my legs out from under the covers and tiptoed to the door, pulling it shut quietly behind me. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard over my sink, I filled it and boiled the water with a wave of my wand before adding a tea bag. Sometimes, I thought simple magic was taken too much for granted. There was something to be said for the ability to keep one's tea at the perfect temperature.

I leaned my elbows against the counter with a sigh, occasionally sipping my tea as I tried to work out what to do about my present predicament. I'd never be able to pretend everything was all right, not even for the morning. Not to mention lying to his face wasn't exactly fair to Potter at this point. Plus, he'd know straight off I wasn't being completely truthful. Somehow, he was exceptionally good at reading me. Bit unnerving, to be honest.

Did he _really _know me at all, though? And did I know him? I mean, we'd never been close at Hogwarts, and although the past several weeks had given us something to go on . . . well, the total amount of days we'd seen each other was somewhere in the count-on-two-hands vicinity. Which, admittedly, was better than Romeo and Juliet, for instance, but just barely. At least we'd waited longer to shag than they had. And neither of us was dead yet, so that had to count for something as well.

I snorted quietly. Comparing Potter and I to Romeo and Juliet was hardly helpful, nor was it flattering. Unfortunately, I couldn't hide the fact that Potter and I had jumped into . . . whatever this was, far too quickly for my liking. I still wasn't sure I wanted to jump at all. It was completely hypocritical, of course, as I reminded myself _once again_ that I'd been the one to start it all.

I was contemplating crawling into a dark hole and never emerging, for the good of both myself and society, when a new thought struck me. Perhaps Potter hadn't wanted to jump, either. Maybe he was lying awake right now, putting off coming out to the kitchen because he didn't want to face the mistake of last night. At this point, I honestly wouldn't have cared if he admitted he'd only been interested in a good shag, and I'd been the first girl to offer. At least then I could pretend to hate him for a while, and we could go back to the way things had been before, only this time I'd keep a tight rein on my sex fiend alter-ego.

Lost in anguished thought, I didn't hear the door of my bedroom open, nor did I notice Potter's presence until his hands sliding beneath my shirt and around my waist made me gasp in surprise.

"Sorry," he said, resting his chin on my shoulder. "My hands are probably cold."

He turned his head to kiss my neck, and I squirmed out of his grasp. Backing up a few paces, I took in James's disheveled hair, the glasses he'd shoved haphazardly back on his nose, and the lopsided grin he was now giving me. Objectively, I suppose he looked achingly adorable, but at the moment I was just glad he'd put on boxers again.

"We should . . . um . . .talk," I said, wincing at how lame it sounded. You'd think that with all the extra time I'd spent thinking this morning, I'd have come up with something more brilliant than that.

James's grin slipped slightly. "O. . . kay?" he said, slowly and uncertainly.

I stared at him in silent panic for a moment. _I can't do this_, I thought frantically. _What am I supposed to say to him? And how do I say it without sounding like an awful excuse for a human being? _Fearing that there may not be an answer to that last question, I swallowed, let out an intelligent, "Er," just to fill the silence, and froze again. _Stop it Lily, _I chided myself harshly, _you have to say something. Don't just stand there like a bloody idiot!_

In the few seconds I'd spent arguing with myself, James's grin had disappeared entirely, and he was now looking at me with a disconcertingly resigned expression.

"Last night," I managed to croak out. "It . . . look, I didn't really—"

"I knew it," James interrupted with a bitter smile. "I thought that maybe—but in the end, I just _knew _you'd—" He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Again, Evans? Really? You're doing this _again_?"

It was exactly what I hadn't wanted him to think. It was this very conclusion I'd hoped to keep him from drawing. But I'd been kidding myself, because what other way could this have possibly gone? "I—it's not . . . like that," I tried to protest.

James laughed shortly. "Oh? Tell me what it's like, then. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't regret every second of it."

I stared into his angry hazel orbs, forcing myself not to look away. "Not every second," I whispered finally, and James flinched as though I'd slapped him.

His jaw tightened as he glanced towards the door to my flat. I wished he'd just storm out, so I wouldn't have to say anything else. But his eyes soon flashed to mine again, the complete lack of expression in them at once welcome and terrifying. "So, remind me how this works again? We pretend it never happened, I hate you for a few weeks, you storm around snapping at everyone, and then eventually we go back to arguing as normal? Did I leave anything out?"

The harsh sarcasm in his voice caused my stomach to clench with guilt. "Potter, that's not—"

"Oh, and we're back to 'Potter', too?"

I frowned. "I've always called you, 'Potter'."

"Not last night, you didn't." He stared at me unabashedly, while my face rapidly reddened to match my hair.

"Well, you still call me 'Evans'," I shot back, part of me knowing I was only making things worse, while the other part gravitated gratefully to the familiar territory of rowing with Potter.

"But I haven't—" He cut himself off with an abrupt shake of the head, smiling bitterly again. "It doesn't matter. You obviously don't give a shit, so why should I?"

I blinked, his biting tone inciting a painful prickling behind my eyes. I moved my eyes from his at last, refusing to let him see me cry.

Only after hearing Potter turn and stomp back towards my bedroom did I deem it safe to swipe hastily at my eyes. When he returned wearing his trousers and a frustrated expression, I braced myself for more accusatory shouting.

"Where the fuck is my bloody sh—oh." He stopped, eyes dropping to the shirt currently draped over my slim frame. His lips curled with a wry smile. "Right."

"I can—" I offered, starting for my room, but James grabbed my arm to stop me. As soon as I halted, he dropped it again, flexing his fingers as though my skin had burned them.

"Don't worry about it," he said stiffly, grabbing his jacket from the hallway and shrugging it on as he opened the door. "Just . . . keep it—or, you know, burn it to erase all the evidence."

He paused for a moment in the doorframe, and I realized belatedly that he was waiting for me to say something. I opened my mouth, but he'd already turned away, and my quiet, "James," was met by the hollow slamming of the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, I can say I liked the last sentence. And there were some other good bits. But like I said, mostly I'm nervous. So please tell me if I failed miserably, did all right, was smashingly brilliant, or some odd combination of the three!**


	5. You Can Blame It All On Me

**A/N: Thank you muchly to last week's reviewers: Jacki James Criss Potter, Silver Scorpion, astral symphony, Menolly Harper, BlueJeanMistress, Ahhleesaaa, livibug, Jenndur, Maiqu, Pink-And-Green-Jellybean, Augurey Song, WobblyJelly, Iwannabeamarauder2010, ErinFabu, RidingonRumbleroar'sback, sugarquills-and-lillies, Ulin, Miss F Cullen, rodo272, anonymous, AA, theUnknownMarauderette, deceptive shadows, Jenn222, Romancing Hogwartsx3, alexbvac, lollipopdiego, maddyxxx, and tardisinthesgc!**

**There's a brief bit with letters, which will be distinguished as following:**

**James will be written in bold, **_Lily in italics_.

**This chapter feels a bit filler to me, which is terrible in a short story, so I apologize in advance for that. Oh, and sorry it took a little longer to get out—I've been studying for the GRE!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: You Can Blame It All On Me<strong>

"Oh, Lily." Marlene stared at me with a mixture of pity and admonishment, a fairly impressive, albeit rather unwelcome, feat.

She had arrived at my flat just before three that afternoon to find me still in nothing but my knickers and James's shirt, eyes puffy and red even though I hadn't shed a tear after James left. I suppose it was the pressure of holding them back that was causing it. Regardless, Marlene immediately demanded to know what was wrong, and now that I'd relayed the story to her, I felt a bit better. Not about what I'd done, or the general outlook for my life at the moment, but there was something about a conversation with your best mate that seems to give everything a more settled feel. In this case, things probably wouldn't be truly 'settled' for several centuries, but nevertheless.

"Please don't look at me like that," I muttered, folding my arms on the table and resting my chin on them.

"Like what?"

"Like I've completely fucked everything up. I know I have, Marls."

"Well, the first step's admitting it," she said seriously, though there was still pity in her eyes.

"You know I hate it when you feel sorry for me," I grumbled to her. "And before you ask, no, I _don't _have any idea what's wrong with me. Why _would _any sane, normal person jump James's bones and then throw him out immediately afterwards?"

"Oh, but you didn't just throw him out. You ripped out his heart, tore it to pieces, trampled on it a bit, and then left him to slink away and lick his wounds."

I wrinkled my nose at her. Marlene had always had a knack for pointing out the blunt truth, even—or perhaps especially—when I didn't want to hear it. "It really is that bad, isn't it?" I whispered. Marlene shrugged and looked away. "Has he—said anything?"

"Not to me," she admitted. "But . . . well, it doesn't take a genius to know something's wrong. I mean, usually at the Order meetings he's got _something_ to say, even if it's just a stupid joke. This afternoon, though, he just sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at his shoes."

I buried my face in my arms. "Shit, bugger, fucking hell," I mumbled at the table.

"Essentially," Marlene agreed. There was a moment of silence, then she asked tentatively, "Lily—do you . . . fancy James?"

My head shot up, an instant denial ready on my lips before I realized that I'd sound completely delusional, even to myself, saying no. I had to feel something for him, else I wouldn't be so ripped up inside right now. "I . . . don't know," I finally said, settling for the half-truth. "Maybe."

My best friend nodded, thankfully not pushing the matter further.

But I suddenly needed to talk about that, too, though it had been mere hours before that I'd pushed it desperately from my mind. "It doesn't matter, though—we're horribly wrong for each other; it doesn't even make _sense _to—"

"Lily," Marlene interrupted firmly. "The two of you have _never _made sense, on any level."

Silence. I blinked at her several times before answering, "Well, then, that's what I'm saying! How is that a good thing?"

"I never said it was a good thing. I'm just pointing out the facts."

"So . . . hang on, you're confusing me—whose side are you on?"

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Marlene said, "I'm not on a _side_; there aren't really sides in this, Lily. All I'm trying to tell you is that it's always been different with James, and maybe . . . well, maybe that means something." She was looking at me tentatively, as though afraid I might explode into full denial mode at her last statement.

But I just looked back at her, surprised. "You're right. I—I think I do fancy him, maybe have for a while, but—Merlin, that only makes things _more_ complicated and now I have even _less_ of a clue what the hell I'm g—"

"At least you know he's been head over heels for you for ages," Marlene cut in, and when I just raised my eyebrows at her, she glared at me. "Come on, Lily, don't be daft. He couldn't help acting like a complete prat around you while we were in school, and now he's been coming by every week on his day off just to see you, when all the rest of us want to do is collapse on our beds and never get up . . . and last night he dropped in at _two in the morning_, even though he was probably exhausted, to make sure you were all right; _I_ didn't even do that . . ." Here she dropped her gaze, voice trailing off guiltily.

I reached across the table to squeeze her arm. "Don't worry about it, Marls. It was a shit day, but . . . I survived." _Because of Potter_, a small part of my mind whispered. The unwelcome truth finally sunk in: I was just as hopeless when it came to him as I'd been at Hogwarts, because of course Marlene was right—you'd have to be blind not to see that he cared for me. Nothing had changed. He was still the boy who would bend over backwards for me, and I was still the girl who toyed with his feelings and broke his heart.

Shaking my head slightly, I focused on Marlene again as she flashed me a small smile and continued, "And if anything, he was so angry this morning because—"

"He hates me," I finished, and when Marlene started to protest, I talked over her insistently. "Even if his feelings for me haven't changed since we left school, you can hardly expect him to take what I did lightly."

"Well of course he's not taking it _lightly_," Marlene said with a frown. "But, as you might have noticed, he's not one to give up on you without a fight."

A sound of frustration escaped my throat. I didn't want optimism right now, because that would only cause me to hope. And hoping was a dangerous thing. "Even he has a breaking point, though. And I really hurt him, Marls."

She was silent for a moment, before nodding resolutely. "Then maybe it's time for you to fight for him."

* * *

><p>Those words were still echoing through my head as I entered the Cauldron later that night. <em>Time to fight for him . . . she's right—if I really want this, I've got to be the one to fix it. <em>In spite of everything, though, I still wasn't sure if I _did _want it. And did I even deserve him? For Merlin's sake, I'd gone back and forth three times in the past twenty-four hours alone. In the end, there was only one conclusion I could decisively draw: there was something seriously wrong with me.

I greeted Luanne normally, determined not to let my personal troubles escape into my voice or face. One afternoon spent deploring my current plight was all well and good, but I didn't fancy repeating the experience with everyone I knew. Of course, fate had other plans, as it always did.

It was two hours into my shift, and I'd managed to reasonably distract myself from thoughts of James, though I couldn't help looking up whenever the bell over the door announced another patron. It was Friday night, after all, and even if Tom would sell the Cauldron and try out for the Wimbourne Wasps before I saw James walk through that door again . . . well, it was bloody hope that kept my head whipping up at that cheerful tinkle til I'd given myself a sore neck. On one such occasion, I got the closest thing to James I could reasonably expect: Sirius Black.

He made a quick scan of the room, spotted me, and nearly knocked over three chairs, two tables, and a startled young witch in his hurry to reach me. Bypassing any attempt at a greeting, he said sharply, "We need to talk, Evans."

I looked into his stormy grey eyes, currently flashing with anger, and bit the inside of my cheek anxiously. I had a feeling I knew exactly what he wanted to say to me, and I really didn't want to hear it. "I'm a bit busy at the moment, Black," I said shortly, turning to fill a mug with butterbeer.

Sirius didn't move, but I hadn't expected him to. The day Sirius Black actually took a hint and courteously left me alone was probably less likely to arrive than James. "I don't bloody care if you've got to visit your dying grandmum and then save seven children from a raging hippogriff—you're going to hear me out first."

I raised my eyebrows, but pushed past him to deliver the butterbeer to a bloke at the table closest to the door. When I turned around, I jumped in surprise as I found Sirius right behind me, glaring face inches from mine. "Jesus, Sirius," I muttered, sidestepping him slightly to increase the distance between us to a more reasonable level. Knowing it would be quicker to just get it over with, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back through the kitchens into the storage room at the far end of the Cauldron.

Before he could start in on me, I said, "Let me guess: you want to know what the fuck I was thinking? Or who the hell I think I am? Or something similar, but likely with more expletives?"

Black blinked at me for a moment, surprise momentarily chasing the anger from his eyes. It soon returned, however, along with two clenched fists. I stepped back slightly, irrationally afraid he might actually hit me. "Kind of you to save me the time of asking, Evans, but I'm rather more interested in your answer," he bit out.

I met his burning gaze, mind working to come up with a reply.

Sirius's jaw clenched at my silence. "I knew it. I _knew _it! Honestly, do you get _off _on torturing him like this? How the bloody _fuck_ do you—"

"I don't know!" I exploded. It felt like that was all I could say, lately. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! And believe me, I wish I did, but . . ." I shook my head. "I d—"

"_Don't_ . . . say it again," Sirius interrupted, holding up a hand. "I get it."

We faced each other without speaking for a few seconds, before Sirius sighed and leaned against the wall behind him. "I swear to Merlin, Evans, you're going to drive him insane one of these days. Hell, you're _already_ driving _me _crazy."

I copied Sirius's pose, resting my head against the rough wood. "Well, alcohol's the only cure I can offer you for that, I'm afraid, as it seems I'm not going to change anytime soon."

Unexpectedly, Sirius grinned at me, pushing off from the wall and opening the storage room door. "I just might take you up on that."

"So, are you saying I _haven't _driven him off a tall building yet?" I commented as we wove through the crowded bar. "Because I'd have expected otherwise."

Sirius blew out a long breath. "It's difficult to say, since he's essentially just brooding around not talking to anyone."

He pulled up a stool at the bar and I poured him a glass of firewhiskey. Taking it with a muttered, "Thanks," he threw it back in three gulps. As I refilled the glass, he added, "Look, I probably shouldn't have attacked you back there."

I shook my head. "No, I get it—you're his best mate, and I'm the slag who tore his heart out . . . if I was in your position, I'd have done the same."

Sirius smiled slightly. "Yeah, well, I'm a bit out of my element—Prongs is always blind and impulsive when it comes to you, and _I'm _supposed to be the impulsive one, so I really don't know how to deal with him when he's like this."

I looked away briefly. _Blind and impulsive . . . well, I guess that makes two of us, then._ Returning my eyes to Sirius's, I asked tentatively, "What do you think the chances are that he'd let me explain?"

Quirking a brow at me, Sirius asked, "Try to explain, you mean? Because I seem to recall that you 'didn't know' why you got everyone into this mess in the first place."

I glared at him, but it was only out of habit, because he was right. "Fine—after I figure it out, then."

After a pause, Sirius smiled wryly, glancing down as he slowly swirled the contents of his glass. "Not good," he said simply.

* * *

><p>But I didn't let that stop me from trying. What did Black know, anyway? I mean, sure, he and Potter were practically siblings and I could swear they shared a brain, but . . . Well, all right, I should have been able to predict that it wouldn't end well. Though, quite honestly, there was literally no possible way for me to make things worse, so what did I have to lose? I figured writing James was the safest bet, as I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't pull his wand on me if I tried to contact him in person. That night, after closing up the Cauldron, I sat down at my kitchen table, quill and parchment in hand. I attempted to explain myself three separate times before deciding that perhaps simpler was better. Ruining a fourth sheet because I accidentally started with 'Potter' as the opener, I finally ended up with this:<p>

_James,_

_Can we talk?_

_Lily_

When my owl returned with my note, I thought at first that James hadn't even read it. About to toss it in the bin in frustration, I noticed the single word scrawled on the back: _No._

_I'd really like the chance to explain myself._

_Lily_

**What's there to explain, Evans? I think it's all—**here, a word was heavily crossed out**—pretty clear.**

**J**

_James,_

_Listen, I'm not asking you to _forgive_ me—you don't even have to _say_ anything, I just think this is something better done in person._

_Lily_

**Evans,**

**Never mind what I would or wouldn't say, I really don't want to listen, either.**

**J**

_James,_

_You're impossible._

**Nothing I haven't heard before, Evans.**

_Five minutes. That's all I'm asking._

**Sod off, Evans.**

And suddenly, I was angry with him. I knew it wasn't really fair, because he had every right to refuse my request to talk. But some part of me selfishly hated him for being so unwilling to see me. All these years he'd stubbornly—infuriatingly—kept coming back, no matter how many times I'd pushed him away. And now that I actually _wanted _him there . . . It really was a mess. An unmanageable, maddening mess.

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><p>I nearly laughed when Remus showed up at the Cauldron the following afternoon. He waved to me down the bar, and as I stopped in front of him with a questioningly quirked eyebrow, I said, "First Black, now you? What, is this some sort of intervention?"<p>

With a small smile, Remus shook his head. "No, I'm just finally taking you up on the offer to catch up, now that I'm free of my idiotic mates."

"Right," I snorted. "That was almost two months ago, Remus."

"I've . . . been busy," he defended, though there were two faint pink spots in his cheeks.

"Mmhm," I agreed, rolling my eyes as I leaned my elbows on the bar top. "Well, I should warn you—meaningful life conversations seem to turn me into some sex-crazed fiend, and unless you want me to shag you and then drop you like it didn't mean a thing . . ."

Remus raised his eyebrows, and I flushed. "As tempting as that sounds," he started dryly, "I think a glass of pumpkin juice will do me for now."

"Sorry," I muttered, still red as I put the requested drink in front of him, "it's been a long week."

"I can imagine. Good to see Sirius didn't follow through with his threat to permanently curse your hair off, though."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. "He said that? And you didn't think it might be wise to accompany him when he came to assault me, for my sake? I thought we were friends, Remus."

He grinned. "Well, I knew he'd never actually do it."

"Honestly," I muttered. I chewed the inside of my cheek, debating whether to ask for his take on the situation. Finally, I said, "So, you're supposed to be the sensible, logical one, Remus—"

"'_Supposed _to be'?" he interrupted indignantly, and I hit his arm lightly.

"Fine, you _are _the sensible, logical one . . . have I completely mucked things up this time?"

He was quiet for a moment, tilting his glass absently back and forth. "Well, he doesn't want to talk to you," he said finally.

"Yes, I've made that discovery myself, actually," I grumbled.

Remus nodded. "And . . . I mean, that's not exactly promising," he finished, almost apologetically.

I sighed heavily. "Brilliant," I said flatly. Suddenly, an idea struck me. "Remus—I probably shouldn't be asking you this, but—"

"If you're going to do it anyway, you can't actually be that morally opposed to it," he pointed out with a teasing smile.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I continued, "D'you know where James's flat is?"

Remus frowned suspiciously. "What are you going to do, Lily?" he asked slowly.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just . . . you know, see if I can catch James before he—"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Remus cut in. "In fact, it may just make things worse."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then?" I demanded, frustrated.

Remus was quiet for a long moment. Eventually, he said resignedly, "Thirteen Harrison Way, flat six."

And that's exactly where I found myself the following Thursday, knocking on the door with the small six on it, my other hand fingering my wand, just in case. It was only as I turned away after nearly a minute of answering silence that I realized James wouldn't be home. He had guard duty Thursday nights. _But maybe this is better_, I thought, a plan forming in my head even as the small part of my brain that was still sane protested it, _he's got to come back eventually, and unless he Apparates directly into his flat . . ._

So I sunk down against the wall next to James's door to wait.


	6. Starting Over

**A/N: Oh reviewers, you are all so amazing, and I thank you: june445, Jacki James Criss Potter, Jenn222, , RachelPuentes, Bamfvalerie, Jamiesgirl15, WobblyJelly, lollipopdiego, brittany177, RiTa-MD, Ulin, m3ggi3, leine312, and prongsridesagain (hey Ally ;))**

**SORRY this chapter took so long to get out….I had a spectacular case of writer's block, and then it ended up being a really short chapter….so I apologize. Anyway, it's here now, so off we go!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Starting Over<strong>

_I was working the late shift at the Cauldron, and it was busy as usual. As I went to pour a mug of butterbeer, I accidentally left the tap on too long, spilling a bit over the side of the glass. But when I tried to shut it off, it wouldn't turn. The butterbeer was now spilling out at an alarming rate; in almost no time at all, it was up to my knees, slowly filling the bar. I tried to move towards the door, but suddenly found that my feet were stuck to the floor. Panicking, I tried again and again to shut off the tap, but the butterbeer kept rising. As it reached my chest, I felt an urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all: I was going to drown in butterbeer. But panic soon hit me again when the liquid rose over my nose and then my eyes, cutting off all light and sound. I flailed desperately, needing to reach the surface, needing to breathe . . . my lungs began to burn, and from somewhere above me I heard a voice call, "Evans!" . . ._

I woke in a tangled mess of sheets, the remnants of my dream causing me to struggle wildly to free myself from their restrictions. As my head finally emerged into the open air, I heard that same voice say my name again, and I whipped around to find James sitting in a chair beside my bed, eyebrows raised.

"Bad dream?" he asked sardonically.

I flushed. "I—er—" But I stopped abruptly. "Hang on, what are you doing in my r—" My voice cut off again immediately as a belated realization struck: This wasn't my room. I wasn't in my bed. Slowly, the previous night came back to me—settling myself outside of James's flat to wait for him, how my back had started to ache after the first hour, how I started to nod off after the second . . .

Gaze shifting quickly to James again, I reddened further. Too mortified to even attempt an apology, however, I heard myself demand, "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Merlin, Evans, of course not," he said curtly. "Well, I mean _technically_ yes, for the past few minutes, but I only came in here because I figured that if I concentrated hard enough on my bed, I might be able to convince myself that I didn't spend the night sleeping on a lumpy couch." He rubbed his neck as he spoke, and I belatedly took note of his wrinkled shirt, the way his hair stood up more than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes.

Guilt stabbed through me, but it only served to make me more defensive. "Well, why didn't you dump me on the couch last night? Or better yet, why didn't you wake me up when you found me outside your door? Or just leave me out in the hallway?"

James shot me an exasperated look at this last suggestion. "Don't be daft, Evans—d'you really think I'd leave you _in the bloody hallway_ all night? You might not have noticed, but these aren't exactly peaceful times. Who knows what might have happened to you?" His voice rose sharply as he spoke, and I winced slightly.

"Well, I still say you should have at least claimed your own bed for the night," I mumbled. "It's not fair that you—"

"You know what's not fair?" James interrupted harshly, and my eyes snapped to his again. "By rights, I should hate you. I really should. But for whatever fucked up, masochistic reason, I don't. So, you know, that's just brilliant." His hand fisted briefly in his hair in frustration, before he stood abruptly and strode from the bedroom.

I remained on his bed, heart pounding, his words having momentarily frozen me there. Hope surged through me with alarming strength, and I quickly clamped down on it, knowing full well its dangerous powers.

Finally regaining control over my limbs, I scrambled out of James's bed, straightening my wrinkled blouse and skirt as best I could as I hurried into the outer room of his small flat. James was at the stove, monitoring a pan of frying eggs with his wand.

I cleared my throat softly. "James?" His back stiffened, though whether it was in surprise at my unexpected approach or irritation that I was still there, I couldn't be sure. Deciding it was safest to assume it was at the very least a combination of the two, I continued tentatively, "Look, I'm not going to stay long, but I did come here to get a few things clear, so . . . I'm going to, er, do that." James didn't reply, nor did he turn around, but unless he'd inexplicably gone deaf in the last five minutes, I knew he was listening.

"Right," I said quietly. In a firmer tone, I went on, "I know the other night was a massive mistake on my part—I don't mean the actual, you know, sex bit," I explained hurriedly. "Or, well, I do, but not in the way you're thinking. I shouldn't have done it because _I _wasn't ready to deal with the consequences. And that was completely, terribly unfair to you. Which I realized about . . . ten minutes too late. I just—I wasn't thinking clearly, that day . . . nor was I the year before . . . so I suppose I've learned I should just lock myself up on that particular anniversary, yeah?" I tried to joke. James was still silent, staring determinedly at the faintly sizzling pan before him.

I swallowed. "Er, anyway, I was just so used to us being—well, we've always had a . . . difficult relationship, and maybe that's my fault, I don't know. But I guess that's why it scared me so much to realize—despite all the arguing, and how you know just what to say to annoy me, and the fact that you seem to enjoy doing it, and . . . well _all _of that—that I wanted to be with you."

James's head whipped up and he spun around to face me, eyes locking with mine. I took a small, surprised step back, but held his gaze steadily. His face betrayed no emotion, and his eyes had that guarded look he'd worn just before he stormed out of my flat the other morning. Wishing desperately I knew what he was thinking, I cleared my throat again and continued talking. "Because maybe that's just how we are. I mean, I can't conceive of a universe in which we _won't _argue. But . . . there are good things, too; at least, I think there could be . . ." I shook my head. "I'm not making sense, I know. I guess all I really wanted to say is that I'm sorry. And that if you, um, stop wishing you could hate me, maybe we could . . . start over."

Silence filled the space between us, expanding until I thought I couldn't bear it a second longer. Just as I opened my mouth to say something—anything—James turned away, grabbing a plate and dumping the eggs from the pan onto it.

I let out a defeated sigh, a twisted, almost nauseous feeling filling my stomach. "Right," I managed to say. "So that's my cue, I guess. I'll see y—" but I stopped, because would I see him? My stomach dropping further, I left the sentence unfinished and started for the door.

"Evans," James called after me suddenly, and I whirled around again, heart leaping. James gestured with the plate of eggs towards the short hallway behind me. "Your shoes are in the closet."

_Goddamn hope_, I muttered to myself, glancing down at my feet. I hadn't realized until now they were bare. "Oh . . . thanks," I mumbled, turning and retrieving my footwear from said closet. Glancing back a final time as I opened the door, I saw that James had sat down to eat with his back to me. My throat tight, I walked out of his flat, the door shutting with a finality that sent a stab of pain through my chest.

* * *

><p>"So, all in all, I basically mucked everything up," I concluded. I'd finally gotten around to catching Luanne up on the happenings of the past few days, because she'd caught me nearly in tears at the beginning of my shift and demanded to know what was wrong. At first, she'd been indignant that I'd held out on her for so long, but now she was watching me with a determined expression that worried me slightly.<p>

Giving me a quick hug, she turned to the bar and poured me a shot of firewhiskey. "Drink this," she commanded, and I obeyed, wincing as the liquid burned my throat. "And you haven't mucked anything up, love."

I frowned at her. "Have you not listened to a word I said? I'm not sure how things could have gone _worse_, to be honest."

"Come on, honey, everyone makes mistakes—and James isn't completely daft, from what I've observed, so he'll recognize that eventually."

"Well, this was a rather large mistake," I said. "And sort of a repeat . . ." Lu raised her eyebrows in a 'do tell' sort of way, and I amended, "I mean, last time we didn't—well it wasn't _exactly_—anyway, it's . . . not good that it happened again."

"Lily—that boy has been coming in here week after week all summer, and from your reaction that first night I'm assuming he didn't exactly get a welcoming reception from you. Now, if that's not dedication, I don't know what is." _You don't know the half of it, _I thought wryly, starting to get the sense that she and Marlene would get along well. "So he's not going to give you up that easily."

I smiled tiredly at her. "Thanks, Lu—but even James has got a breaking point, I'm afraid," I said, feeling a sense of déjà vu. "And I think I may have found it."

"Nonsense," Luanne insisted with a wave of her hand. She nodded to the front of the bar. "He'll walk through that door again—you'll see."

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><p>But I didn't allow myself to hope this time. I appreciated Luanne's stubborn support, of course, but she hadn't seen him that day. She hadn't seen the pain in his eyes, and the way they'd abruptly become blank and expressionless, James's way of shutting himself off from me. He wanted to hate me, and if I knew anything about James Potter it was that when he set his mind to something, he usually accomplished it. In all honestly, it had been nearly hopeless from the beginning, from the moment I'd let him walk me home that night.<p>

So that was why I nearly had a heart attack when Luanne turned out to be right.

It was Friday—of course—though I'd purposefully stopped keeping track of the days in an effort to keep all traces of hope at bay. I'd just served a large group of young, rowdy wizards their second round of firewhiskey, resigning myself to a long, headache-inducing night, when Luanne came rushing over to me, eyes twinkling and a smile on her face that was simultaneously ecstatic and superior. "Luanne—" I started, immediately suspicious, but she cut me of.

"He's here," she said simply, and when I just frowned at her, she pointed to the door.

My knees buckled at the sight of James, and I grabbed Luanne's shoulder for support, eyes snapping back to hers before I could accidentally meet James's. "Oh, my Merlin," I said, panicking. "What is he—I mean, d'you think—no, he _can't _possibly—"

"Lily," Lu cut in firmly. "Go. Talk. To. Him."

"I—er, right. Yes. Okay. I can do that . . . right?"

Lu just rolled her eyes and gave me a little shove in the right direction.

Heart pounding in my throat, I moved towards James, wanting and not wanting to catch his eye before I reached him. He looked over when I was one table away, and I almost had to clutch the chair I was passing when his lips curved in a small smile. _Get a grip, Lily_, I commanded myself, _and don't you dare muck it up_. No idea how I was going to manage that second bit, I settled with a simple, "Hi," as I stopped in front of James, clasping my hands behind my back to hide their trembling.

"Hi, yourself," he returned. And then both of us were silent.

"So . . ." I started eventually. "Um . . ." But I trailed off again. James smiled in amusement, and my heart leaped again even as an embarrassed heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Starting over—how does that work, exactly?" he asked abruptly.

I blinked at him. "Oh, well . . . I think . . . I don't know," I admitted. "I hadn't really worked that part out yet. You know, just in case."

James tilted his head consideringly. "I'd have thought you _would _want to figure it out, just in case."

"Apparently," I said, starting to smile as well. "So . . . are you here for a drink as well?"

"That was my first aim, actually—you were just a side benefit."

"Just like usual, then," I said, and James laughed.

We started for the bar, and I subtly pinched myself because, cliché as it seemed, I was almost convinced I was dreaming. But when pain shot up my arm, I allowed myself to accept the next-best explanation, that James had succumbed to insanity. Pouring him his customary firewhiskey, I set it in front of him, but he just grinned at me without taking a drink.

"You look like you expect to wake up at any moment, Evans," he pointed out, and I wondered if he'd seen me pinch myself or if he was just that good at reading me. "I really am serious about this starting over business."

"I—okay," I said after a pause. "But I really don't think I d—"

"Nope," James interrupted. "You're not doing that," he added, looking at me sternly. "What happened, happened, you apologized and . . . well, starting over doesn't allow self-deprecation, Evans—I'm sorry, that's just how it works."

My throat tightened inexplicably, and I nodded, hoping he knew how grateful I was that he was sitting here right now, saying everything I'd never dared let myself think he would. "Okay," I repeated after I'd gathered my composure. "Starting over. Right. I guess . . . well, shall I yell at you, or something? I mean, how far back are we going, exactly?"

James grinned. "I could flirt with you first, if that'll help get you in the right frame of mind." I rolled my eyes, and James nodded. "Yes, that looks about right. Merlin, you're good at this, Evans."

I hit his arm lightly. "And there you go, annoying me like usual."

"See? I think we'll do just fine." His tone was teasing, but the smile he flashed me made my skin tingle pleasantly.

"I know we will."

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><p><strong>AN: And in case it is not obvious, this is the last chapter! Bit of a cheesy ending….anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading!**


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